The Family Business
by plaguedbynargles
Summary: What if Sam and Dean hunted something other than monsters? And what will happen when a certain man begins to take credit for their work?
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! This is going to be a dark fic, and there will not be any pairings in it. There will probably be gore, and possibly cursing. I actually just rewatched the "Skin" episode of Supernatural and… this idea happened! I don't want to give too much away, because I feel like it will be more enjoyable if you read it yourself. I hope you enjoy! Please R&R!**

Dean motioned to Sam to follow him into the shadows. This looked like a fairly easy job. The house had next to no security, and the dog had already been killed with no trouble and little noise. Yes, this wouldn't be difficult. It was also, conveniently, something that both of the boys had been looking forward to for a long time.

The cicadas had helped actually. Summer made their job so much easier, as all of the bugs were great covers for gunshots, screams, or just disturbances in general.

Dean moved around the side of the house to the single window it possessed. Using perfected skill, he picked the simple lock keeping it closed with the twisted paper clip he always kept with him. A quiet _click_ and he slowly, carefully slid it open. Dean glanced at Sam one more time to confirm that he should enter, and then agilely climbed into the cool air of the house.

The taller of the brothers drew out his favorite handgun, while Dean unscrewed the cap of the two gallon container of gasoline he was carrying. The two gently placed each foot in front of the other as they padded their way to the kitchen. They had been scouting around the house, studying its layout, for weeks. Just to ensure that everything went perfectly. Aside from the muffled chorus of cicadas outside, there was not a sound to be heard. As they reached the tile that marked the entrance to the kitchen, the brothers paused, and then continued to walk across the room.

When the Winchesters finally reached the other side, closest to the front door, Dean promptly began throwing gasoline onto every surface in his range of vision. The stagnant liquid splashed onto the cheap tiled floor, the faded walls, the ancient stove, and everywhere else except for the brothers and their escape route.

After this was finished, Dean nodded curtly to Sam, who then proceeded to remove a large, jagged knife from his pocket. He handed his pistol to Dean, who was still standing in front of the soaked kitchen. The younger brother then walked over to the nearest wall, not bothering to be quiet anymore. With a tight grip on the knife, he began to carve into the wall.

"Make it something clever," Dean teased in his deep voice. Not that anyone was going to see it, but it never hurt to be careful. He didn't want to risk someone finding an uncreative message.

"Please, Dean," Sam scoffed, "This sort of thing is my forte."

He continued to carve. B…U…R…N…B…A…B…Y…B…U…

"Can you try to make it a little louder?" Dean complained.

"I'm going as loud as I can," the other brother protested.

"Then go slower at least!"

R…N. The jagged letters looked fantastic there on the wall. And the message was so… fitting. Sam chuckled to himself. He was really excited for this, and the adrenaline had him extra giddy. His heartbeat could be heard in his ears.

"WHAT THE HELL?" a portly man in his fifties had finally woken up. He was unshaven, his hair was a mess, and he had stains of Cheetos and what seemed to be beer on his slightly too small grey shirt. Besides that, he wore only off white briefs that his large beer belly hung over. He smelled repulsive, and it must have been strong, because it was still strong, even over the stench of the gasoline. You couldn't tell in the dark, but the rage in both of the brother's eyes and hearts was so deep, you could almost see flames in their eyes. Though perhaps part of that was the adrenaline.

"Mr. Randall," Dean began in a sickly sweet voice, "So glad you could join us. After all this planning…"

"You- you just stay right where you are!" the man's anger changed to panic when he saw the writing on the wall. "I'm calling the cops!"

"Oh but surely you know what the cops do to abusive men," Sam's voice was deadly calm. "I mean, what kind of sick fucker burns his wife for punishment?"

"How- how do you… she was unfaith-… she deserved… I'm going to kill you if you don't get out!" the mixture of anger and panic in the man's voice was growing ever more potent.

Sam cocked his head to the side, "Why don't you give it a try, then?" He smiled at Randall, but it didn't reach his eyes.

The man glared at Sam for a moment, sizing him up. He then took one look at Dean's gun, now caressed gently between his hands, and made the last foolish decision of his life.

Randall quickly took a step forward, towards the phone on the kitchen wall. Due to the fuel spread all over the floor, however, he lost his footing, cracked his head on the table underneath the phone, and fell, helpless, onto the floor. The gasoline stung the fresh gash on his head.

"Burn in hell," were the last words he heard before his world was engulfed in flame and heat. The now blaring fire alarm did nothing as it too was soon consumed by the fire. Sam and Dean, satisfied that their work was done, promptly left through the front door, detoured around the back of the house, and began the long run through the woods to where the Impala was parked, in a nearby forest preserve parking lot. Neighbors would marvel at how suddenly the flames had sprung up, though no one would bother to ask why the cops found traces of gasoline in the remains of the kitchen. Most dismissed it as a suicide, or karma, and moved on with their lives.

As Sam and Dean reached the Impala, they could hear sirens in the distance. They were calm, though. Over the years, they had perfected this art.

"Man, it's nice to do some justice once in a while," Dean sighed.

"Yeah, but Dean, we need to start spacing these out a little more. I mean that gas seriously cut into our funds," Sam countered, ever rational.

"So what?" Dean waved his brother's worries away as he steered the car, "Next time we'll just get a guy who's got a little more money than average. It'll be fine."

"I still think we should have gotten some money out of this guy before we took him out. I mean, where's it all gonna go now?"

"It was his girlfriend's money. We would be stealing it from her."

"Dean, we kill people for a living, and you're feeling sympathetic for one girl we didn't even know?"

"Most of the people we yolk have lived lives of comfort, she lived in hell. And it was his fault."

"…Fair point. But as nice as justice is, we need to live, too."

The car was quiet for the next few miles that they drove. Sam stared out the window, wondering how his life would be different if he had been born to a different family. Would he be the victim, and someone else riding in the Impala with his brother?

The thought wasn't appealing. Sure, it was wrong, but they did bring a certain… balance to the world doing this. With the population exploding, wasn't this a good deed? They eliminated some of the first world demand. And… Sam couldn't deny that their few justice missions were quite… fun to execute and plan. It was nice that some people got their comeuppance…though perhaps one day they would get theirs, too.

Sam sighed. Being born into a family of murderers wasn't the greatest thing that could happen to a person, but now that it was just Dean and him, they couldn't change their futures. They needed money, and killing was all they could do.

As the Impala pulled into a Super 8 parking lot, Sam and Dean were only thinking of what their next job would be, and whether or not anyone had seen the message on the wall. They worried none about another building, halfway across the country, in Washington. The figure climbing down the east wall didn't cross their mind. No, tonight was one of the last days of peace the Winchester brothers would enjoy for quite a while.

**A/N: What did you think? This is going to be multichapter, don't worry. I will try to update often, but I have another story going right now, too, so it won't be every single day. It should be often enough, though. Until next time!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello again! Here's the next chapter! I hope you enjoy and remember to r&r!**

"Sammy, get up," Dean scolded his younger brother, "It's already nine and we need to go and look for a new job."

The brothers had spent the last few days hopping from motel to motel until they were all the way in North Dakota. Dean was convinced that this was far enough from Kansas for them to go on another hunt, and besides, they were running low on money.

"_Ugh,_" Sam groggily rolled over.

"C'mon Sam, I already took a shower. Get off your ass!"

"Alright, alright," the younger brother reluctantly stumbled out of bed and into the bathroom. Once the door was shut, Dean turned on the tv with a casual flick of the remote.

"_And police are still searching for the killer-_"

Dean's ears instantly pricked up.

"_-who escaped from a high security Washington prison three days ago. The former serial killer was imprisoned for taking the lives of over 20 individuals. If you live near anywhere near Washington St. Prison for the Criminally Insane, it is wise to stay indoors and keep your house locked up. If you see this man-" _an mugshot of a bearded man appeared on the screen, "_-do not approach him. Get yourself to safety and then call the police. Back to you, John."_

Dean pondered this news segment. He had to make sure Sam didn't see it, because of course he would want to go and kill the guy. He sighed, it was sometimes a little frustrating that they couldn't be on the news like this, and get a little credit for their work. Although, when Dean pictured Sam strapped into an electric chair, he didn't mind so much.

"Alright, where are we going today?" As the taller Winchester emerged from the bathroom, Dean dismissed what he had seen on the news. Psychopaths like that always made mistakes. This guy probably had a day or two at most more of freedom before he got locked up again or executed. The crazy ones never really had the brains to properly cover their tracks.

"I figured we could just scope out the suburbs. There's gotta be at least one rotten egg in there," Dean answered as he got up and grabbed the keys to the Impala.

After checking out of their motel room, the brothers drove around the town a little before they had found an unsuspecting looking neighborhood. White picket fences, little flower gardens, probably all good Christian families.

Sam hated visiting places like this.

He couldn't say that it was because he wished he lived here _now_, because he couldn't picture doing anything else. But sometimes the younger brother wished he and Dean had been born to a family that was, well, normal. Maybe a family that didn't hunt _people_ for a living.

They drove casually up and down the streets for a while, and had started to feel discouraged when they finally found a middle-aged woman kicking her dog.

_Finally_, Dean thought. After memorizing the look of the house, the Winchesters headed off towards town to grab some brunch.

"How much we got left?" Sam asked his brother as they sat down inside a run-of-the-mill Denny's.

"Mmmm," Dean started as he dug in his pockets for money. Normally they both would have had some on them, but on the last real job they'd had, Sam's jacket had gotten snagged on a fence and was left behind. It was lucky for them there was nothing incriminating inside.

"50 bucks, 76 cents," Dean replied and shook his head. We're cutting it close here, Sammy."

"It's Sam," he bickered back as their eggs and bacon arrived. Dean flashed the waitress a smile as he picked up his fork.

"Are you really trying to pick up chicks in a _Denny's_?" Sam asked incredulously.

"Shut up," Dean countered distractedly. The T.V. above the bar now had his full attention.

Sam followed his brother's gaze and saw the news story for the first time. Dean had lost interest in keeping his brother naiive. After all, Sam couldn't _force_ his brother to help him hunt this guy down.

"_The killer that escaped from a Washington prison 3 days ago has struck, not in Washington, but in Montana. A college professor walked into her classroom earlier this morning to find three students dismembered and strung up on the walls, ceiling, and furniture. Again, if anyone sees the killer, you are not to approach-"_

The entire restaurant was transfixed by the story now. Not a soul dared to breathe as they watched the screen. Once the anchor had finished, the nervous chatter began to fill the empty silence.

"Dean, you realize we have to go after this guy," Sam looked into his brother's green eyes. He didn't look like he was going to negotiate.

"Sam, do you know how dangerous that would be?" Dean stared back disbelievingly.

"What? We can take one crazy guy who's been sitting in prison for-"

"That's not what I mean," Dean explained calmly, "I mean do you know how much that would put us into the spotlight? Eventually they'd track us down and find out."

Sam sighed. They were never going to get out of this rut. They were living in hell and his brother was too afraid to step up and do the right thing for once.

"Let's go, we should scope out the area a little more before tonight," Dean changed the subject. After paying their bill, the two brothers set out to look around town. Both had one thing on their mind, and it wasn't their job tonight.

After a long day of pretending to be interested in local history, it was finally time to set off for the dog-kicker's house. Night had fallen, the temperature had dropped, and both brothers were invigorated and ready to kill. After they had parked the Impala a few blocks away, each brother grabbed a favorite knife from the trunk and set off for the house.

It was slightly more difficult to find at night, but they still located it with no real issue. Quickly and quietly, the Winchester brothers snuck right up to the front door.

They were in luck. It had a simple key-lock. Dean picked it in record time, and they slowly, carefully pushed open the door. It was a decent sized house, and they both let their hopes for more money rise just a little higher.

Sam motioned that he would go upstairs, while Dean stayed downstairs to look for money and to watch for threats. The younger brother gently drew his knife and crept up the stairs and down the hallway that followed. A small yelp told him that Dean had taken care of the dog. There were a few black and white photos on the wall here and there, but not much else, other than cobwebs. The flower wallpaper that coated the hallway was horrendous looking, but well kept. Suddenly, the Winchester froze. He heard noise coming from the door directly in front of him. It was quiet; she had the tv on low volume, but he could just make out… yes, it was another announcement about the killer. That would have to wait for later, though. What mattered now was getting the job done and getting out of there. Wasting no more time, the tall man shoved the door open and had his hand over the woman's mouth before she could even scream.

She wouldn't go down so easy, though, and surprised Sam by twisting away from him as soon as the knife had begun to go through her back. The result was a much larger and painful gash than the Winchester had intended to make, circling around her body like a large, red snake. She wrestled Sam for the knife, but she was no match for such a tall man. Sam got it away from her and attempted to stab her in the chest, but was once again frustrated when she kicked him in the stomach and wriggled away, the knife still stuck in her ribs.

Finally, Sam managed to get it away from her and slit her throat, wondering why he hadn't done so before. As her blood covered body went limp, Sam realized that he, too, was covered in blood. This wasn't one of his better jobs. He rummaged through the drawers in the woman's bedroom, finding about 100 dollars cash (he didn't have time to check the exact amount in the dark), and was about to leave when the tv once again caught his attention.

"_I regret to announce that the Washington killer has struck again, this time killing an entire restaurant, yes, a restaurant full of people,"_

Sam's eyes were suddenly glued to the screen.

"_The man this time struck at a North Dakota Denny's, brutally killing everyone inside. This incident apparently occurred only half an hour ago-"_

Sam's stomach dropped. His heart started racing. He and Dean needed to get out of here. He raced down the stairs, still covered in blood and carrying the stolen money. A surprised Dean looked up from his rummaging.

"Dean, we need to go, NOW!" One look at the urgency in his brother's eyes and he sprinted for the door, Sam closely behind him. The two brothers shot out into the night, sprinting towards where the Impala was parked. Dean didn't ask questions as he jammed the key into the ignition, put his foot to the accelerator, and _drove._

After a few minutes of silent speeding, Dean finally spoke up, "So why are we running?"

Sam told his brother about the news announcement.

"Do you think it was our Denny's?" Dean asked grimly.

"I don't know, but to me it looks like he might be following us," Sam was still feeling anxious.

"It's probably just a coincidence," Dean reassured his brother, "I mean, why would some psychopath killer follow us? For advice on how to commit murder?"

Sam didn't reply. Maybe he was just jumping to conclusions. He hoped he was.

"How much did you get?" Dean changed the subject.

"About 100, what about you?"

"500, bitch," Dean smirked at his brother.

Although the mood was now considerably lighter, the brothers didn't stop to sleep until they were halfway through Minnesota.

**A/N: What did you guys think? The plot thickens… mwahahaha. I'm sort of surprised at myself for writing something this gory. Though I know there is **_**much**_** worse stuff on this website. Stay tuned for the next chapter!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys! Here's the next chapter. Oh and also, I feel a need to remind you guys that this is an AU, so there are no demons/angels/etc. I think I somehow forgot to put that in the summary, but I think most of you got that by now. The reason I want to mention this is because you will be seeing character(s) who in the actual series were supernaturals as humans in this fic. Anywho, enjoy! Should be an exciting chapter!**

Dean didn't sleep well that night. He always marveled at how easy his brother slept, especially knowing the fact that if this killer was following them, he wasn't far behind. He didn't want to let it on to Sammy, but this genuinely worried him. Though maybe he was just being over-cautious. Dean sincerely hoped so, not only because of the fact that this was a, well, a killer, but because if this somehow put them in the spotlight, their countless frauds would be exposed; or worse, their lifestyle. Once the younger Winchester was in the shower, Dean attempted to ease his paranoia by turning on the news.

He watched a story about an unpopular politician stealing campaign money for a while, and his nerves began to calm. Maybe this wasn't as big of a deal as he thought it was. However, someone at the tv station must have heard his thoughts, because just then, the breaking news logo appeared on the screen. And, to make things worse, Sam chose that moment to finish with his shower and emerge from the bathroom.

"_This just in! New developments on the Washington Killer case."_

Dean turned up the volume, and hoped against hope that this was good news.

"_Police have just released to the press that the killer left a recorded message at the crime scene in a North Dakota Denny's. I should warn you that this footage may be disturbing to some viewers, and viewer discretion is advised."_

The image of the news anchor disappeared to be replaced shaky footage of the Denny's that appeared to have been shot up. It seemed to be taken with a cell phone. Suddenly, the camera steadied, and began to slowly circle to cover footage of the entire restaurant. It was horrifying to watch, even for Sam and Dean. Bodies had been strung up by their innards, skin had been cut off, and there was blood _everywhere_. Sam wondered how anyone could do something like that without _vomiting_.

Finally, the camera spun around to reveal the man they had seen on the news a day ago. He had short cut brown hair, a beard, and blue eyes that just had something, _wrong_ in them. He wore a chershire cat grin.

"Hey guys! It's Cas!" he piped up in a horrifyingly cheery voice.

"I finally escaped! And look at what I've done! I'm just like you!" he stopped to chuckle to himself.

"Sam and Dean, I've been waiting for this moment for a long time. I'm going to be the greatest killer that's ever hit America. Greater than even you," his face had darkened now.

The man now looked directly at the camera, and both brothers actually had to look away for a moment, just to avoid those twisted blue eyes.

"No one is safe."

The clip ended there, and they saw the new anchor's face again.

_"Police are now investigating a murder in a suburb not far from the Denny's that seemed to occur not long after the previous incident. It is advised that anyone who lives in a state near to North Dakota keep their doors locked and take extra precautions to stay safe. Government officials are offering a reward for anyone that has information on the man or his accomplices, Sam and Dean. As of now, Castiel Hopkinson is now public enemy number one. Back to you, Jake."_

Dean and Sam sat there in silence for a moment before the former turned to his brother, "Well, you know what we have to do, right?"

Sam looked back at his brother, "What?"

"We gotta blow this little bitch to hell," he answered with full conviction.

"But, Dean, we need to be careful. I mean, we've obviously not been careful enough if he knew our names. And he's somehow found a way of following us."

"Sam the time for being careful is over. Didn't you hear what this guy said? It sounded like we're next on his list."

"No, we've got some time. I took a psychology course freshman year in college, and this guy is probably gonna try to pull off some really crazy stunts before he cracks completely and goes after us."

"_Cracks completely?_ You mean he could get _worse_?"

"Well, yeah. I mean, right now he has enough sense and logic to cover his tracks, but when even his own crazy killings can't make him better than us in his mind, he'll throw all logic to the wind and, well, go completely off the wall."

"So to save more people, we need to try to make that happen sooner, when he's still relatively sane?" Dean wasn't sure he liked where this was going.

"Exactly. What we need to do is pull off an _insane_ murder, have it make national news, and make sure that he doesn't get the credit. Have it be a crazy distance away or something. He'll come running to us, and we'll just have to snuff him and get out of there before the police arrive." Sam looked proud of his plan.

"So what happens if we don't get out of there before the cops come?"

"We either get the chair or spend the rest of our lives in federal prison." Sam admitted.

Dean sighed, "Always said I wanted to go out with a bang. Should we start driving?"

"Yup. Let's put some distance between us and this guy."

**A/N: What did you guys think? R&R please!**


	4. Chapter 4

**Hola everyone! I know, I know. It's been a while. Starting school has made finding time/motivation to write a lot harder, but recently I've felt sorta inspired! And I promised myself that no matter what I would finish this fic. So here's the next installment!**

"Sam."

"Mm?"

"Wake up. We're here."

Sam groggily opened his eyes to squint out his car window.

"How long was I out?"

"Couple of hours. Welcome to Boston."

Sam studied the landscape. It looked like a relatively average town. As if reading his thoughts, Dean spoke up before his brother could.

"I know it doesn't look like much, but honestly, there's some neighborhoods _loaded_ with cash here."

"Whatever you say. Dean, we have to find a house quick, though. We don't have a lot of time before he catches up," Sam said. It was true. Neither of the two could figure out how he was pulling it off, but for the past few days, there had been a steady stream of killings taking place along the route they drove.

It was about half an hour before they found a neighborhood that was "high brow" enough. Though Sam had to admit to himself Dean had been right. _From the look of these houses, the people here must bathe in cash daily,_ he marveled. Most of them were of white stone or marble, and all were on large pieces of land decorated with perfectly groomed flowers, hedges, or exotic trees. A gardener looked up at the Impala as it drove past.

"Damn, these people aren't gonna know what hit 'em," Dean chuckled, shaking his head. Sam however, was feeling increasingly daunted by the task they were facing.

"Dean, we need to find a house and start planning quick. This isn't a joke. I mean most of these houses probably have more security than we've ever had to deal with."

"They've also probably never had to deal with professional killers before, though," Dean reminded his brother, "I mean, really Sammy. These people probably are going to catch one glimpse of us and faint just at the fact that we don't wear designer clothes. They have people to do everything for them, so how do you expect them to save themselves?"

Sam didn't respond. They had reached a dead end. And in front of them sat possibly the biggest house either of them had ever seen. They sat there idling for a moment, just staring open mouthed at it. It looked like a slightly smaller version of the White house.

"Do I need to say it?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head, "Dean what if there's a family in there? We've never killed kids before."

"It's not a family."

"How do you know?" Sam turned to look at his brother.

Dean rolled his eyes, "Sam, there's one car in the driveway and it's a convertible with two seats. Do you really think that's a family car?"

"No need to be a jerk about it, I was just making sure."

"Sometimes it amazes me that _you're_ the one who went to college."

"Okay stop! Let's just take some pictures and get out of here."

"_I am the best. I am king. You took my crown, Dean."_

_ "No! No stop! Please! I- I'm not Dean!" the woman stammered. She was soaked in blood. Not her own, but that of what now barely looked like a person anymore. That would be her soon._

_ "Oh Dean, silly!" the man licked the blood off of the sickle shaped blade he had used to hack the other man apart before continuing._

_ "Dean, Dean, Dean. All kingdoms must fall. It's time for a new face to ascend the throne."_

_ The woman's breathing slowed slightly. Maybe if she could convince him she wasn't this Dean…_

_ "AM I YOUR KING!?" Suddenly the killer was inches from her face. Her breathing sped up again. Her heart pounded harder than she ever thought it could. Her features read panic._

_ "I- I don't- you- I'm not Dean…" the woman squeaked._

_ "SHUT UP!" before the woman could realize what had happened, her throat had been slashed open. Blood poured out onto the already soaked floor. _

_ The killer stood there for a moment, just staring at his work. He then dropped his blade with a glazed look in his eyes, and picked up the woman's still warm corpse._

_ "Need to practice the surgery so it's perfect for Dean."_

Sam looked at the clock. It was 9:30 already, and they still didn't feel fully prepared. Although it couldn't be that hard to sneak into a house this large, right? He was feeling extremely nervous, which was never a good sign. And he couldn't shake a serious feeling of déjà vu, for whatever reason.

"Sammy we need to get going if we're doing this tonight," Dean said as he slipped his gloves on. He tossed a pair to Sam.

"Dean, are you sure this is the best way to get rid of this guy? I mean can't we just wait it out, wait for him to make a mistake and then go on with our lives?"

"Sam, the last murder was in Ohio and that was _two days ago_, he's right on top of us now, we need to stop him."

"Why?"

There was a pause before Dean looked up at his brother, "What?"

Sam stood his ground, "Why should we care if he kills more people. We kill for a living, Dean. I've lost track of how many bodies are on our record."

"At least we do some good once in a while. This guy is a total psychopath!"

"Okay, but then why do we need to commit this murder tonight to get him to come to us? You've said it yourself, he's right on top of us, so why do we need to kill someone else if you care so much?"

"Because he's going to kill as many people as he can before he goes after us!" Dean shouted, then continued, "Sammy, I'm getting tired of killing. I am. And when I see stuff like what he's doing, I question if I belong locked up somewhere, too."

Sam huffed. His brother's logic made no sense.

"Whatever, let's just go."

That was the end of it. The two left the motel and quietly drove to their planned kill site. They couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching them.

**A/N: R&R! **


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